


FitzEmpress

by LadyAttie



Category: 12th Century CE RPF, British Royalty RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: 12th Century, Childbirth, Gen, Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAttie/pseuds/LadyAttie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the 5th of March 1133, one of the greatest kings of England in its history was born.</p><p>Written in honor of the birthday of King Henry II, the first of the Plantagenet kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FitzEmpress

**Author's Note:**

> King Henry II is actually one of my favorite kings of England, second to King Stephen, so I want to dedicate a short fic to him and his soul. Happy birthday Henry! :)

The cold chills of late winter seeped through the cracks of the stone walls as it gave Matilda of England discomfort. She placed a hand upon her large abdomen and sighed. Any day now her child would be born. While Matilda had wished Geoffrey was not her husband, she had finally conceived an heir to the House of Normandy more than eight months ago. It was her duty to bear a son, and she had prayed nightly to the Virgin Mary her child would truly be a boy.

She leaned back on the cushioned chair to relax, allowing herself to fall in her thoughts. It had to be a boy — positive. She smiled at the thought of her son possibly growing as one of the greatest kings England could ever have. With the titles also including Duke of Normandy and Count of Anjou, Touraine and Maine, he could also easily outnumber the Capetian King of France. A prestigious marriage would also give greater benefits, but that matter was to be dealt far in the future.

A sudden jolt of pain washed over her loins as a loud cry escaped from her lips. Matilda felt her thighs growing wet and pulling her skirts above, she realised she was going into labour. The chamber's door opened with her ladies running towards her.

"Fetch the midwife!" Matilda gasped. "And help me to the birth room now!"

Two ladies took each of her two arms as they walked across the corridors. The pain was growing larger but it did not take long for them to reach the birth room. The midwife was already there when they arrived.

"The pain must get worse before it gets better, my lady," the midwife assured. She helped Matilda upon the large bed to lie down.

"Are you not supposed to be due until another few weeks?" the midwife suddenly asked.

The Empress Matilda felt as she was struck but she maintained composure. "Send my ladies away but keep a servant girl behind the door in case in need of anything."

The midwife raised her eyebrows and stared at her mistress as she had gone mad. "What— But that is against Angevin tradition! It is the custom for women surrounded to watch childbirth!"

"I care not! I am a Norman and a daughter of King Henry of England!" Matilda shrieked. Another contraction overcame her and she heaved.

Despite Matilda was known to be austerely reserved, many feared in crossing the line of unleashing her fury, second only to her husband's violent temper of "demon blood." The ladies were intelligent enough to escape the frightening possibilities, closing the door behind them.

"Has the Count been informed of my labour?" Matilda asked the midwife.

"Yes, and I had happened to be close by of his whereabouts when one of your ladies appeared." She finished preparing anything and the tools in necessity of assisting childbirth. Walking to the bed, she pulled up Matilda's gown to feel her abdomen.

"You are ready, my lady," she said. She grabbed a goblet from a table and lifted it to Matilda's lips.

Matilda frowned after sipping the liquid. "What is this?"

"White wine with gladioli, Savin, hyssop, savory, rue and dittany crushed. Altogether they speed the birth." The midwife grabbed a jar, dipped her hand in and proceeded to rub them over Matilda's body, thighs and buttocks.

The sound of a gentle knock interrupted with Count Geoffrey's voice, "All is well?"

"Yes, my lord. The Countess is doing a fantastic job," the midwife said in a loud voice.

"Empress!" Matilda snapped, cringing at the title she hated. "Ahhh." Another spasm washed over her.

The midwife propped the pillows of the bed upward to ease and make Matilda feel more comfortable. She opened a jar of ointment from the table and mixed it with a substance of butter to rub Matilda's navel and downward. Red splotches of blood leaked through the white sheets of the bed as the Empress gave raspy sounds.

"The babe will give even more pain in a moment or so, so brace yourself," the midwife said. She walked to the windows and opened the curtains slightly to give some air. Returning to Matilda she placed a stone upon her palm. "This is a jasper stone, said to have powers in helping childbirth."

Grabbing another object that looked like a foot of a bird, she also placed it over Matilda's belly. "This is a right foot of a crane, which is also very helpful." The midwife took a small piece of wood and pushed it under Matilda's teeth. "Biting this helps too. Now push."

Matilda felt as every part of her body was ripped apart, and she instinctively gripped on the midwife's large hand. She forced herself to push as more agonising pain flooded her lower torso. Her muscles throbbed and throbbed, and she felt something large beginning to emerge below. The midwife peered down.

"I am seeing the head. You are doing well, my lady, keep pushing," she exclaimed.

Matilda began to yelp and continued to push more. It was even worse now. Moments passed and she wondered of how long she would have to endure such affliction.

"You are halfway through. Push harder!" the midwife ordered.

"I am— I'm trying!" Matilda shrieked. She breathed heavily. _It shall be over soon. You can do this_. She pushed even more harder, and a very loud scream burst from her throat and mouth.

With the last force, the sudden sound of an intense, piercing cry engulfed the room. Matilda heaved a sigh as the pain began to slowly ease. Her eyes drifted to the small pink bodily form held by the midwife. She gasped as she analysed the babe's form.

"A boy," she whispered, "I have a son!"

The midwife grabbed a knife to cut the umbilical cord attached to the babe, and she carried him to a tub to wash the blood away. After a time, she held him to his mother as Matilda smiled down with pride and motherly love upon him.

The baby opened his eyes and his cries slightly calmed at the sight of his mother. His eyes were the same grey as hers. Matilda lifted a gentle hand to stroke the thin rust-coloured wisps of his hair, but she noticed his face slightly reminded her of a particular someone. Happy tears glistened her eyes.

"What will you name him?" the midwife asked.

She would have named her son after him, but she knew better. He was a Norman after all.

"Henry. Henry is his name," she said out loud, then lowering to a very soft whisper as she glanced at the window, "and he is ours, my dear."

**Author's Note:**

> I have actually based some words and things from _The Fatal Crown_ since this was my first time writing a fic about childbirth. There is some ambiguity here whether Henry is Stephen of Blois' son or not, but I want to leave this up to you since I'm sticking it to historical accuracy more. ;)


End file.
